From hell's doorstep to yours
by KasPer1516
Summary: Trellis had been presumed dead for nearly twenty years since the final battle that decided the war. Emily had witnessed his demise personally, or so she thought. He reappears as if by an answered wish, twenty years too late. Be careful what you wish for. Now the infamous prince of the elves tells her about his epic journey through hells to reach her and fulfill a promise.


**Hello, I just wanted to write a little more before I continue with my first story. What"s going on here is that Trellis had been presumed dead for nearly twenty years since the climax to the final battle against the Amulet. Emily thought he sacrificed himself and feels a rekindled flame borne from their unrequitted past when he comes back to tell her of his trials and tribulations in those twenty years.**

**As much as I want to rate one of my works M people told me it's too soon and I shouldn't so I rate this T. It will rarely extend to extremities beyond action, cool explosions, some swearing, and the sad streaks of twenty years. I hope you enjoy it though you might hate me at some points, I love most of you. -KasPer**

* * *

Emily sits down on her desk hunching over paperwork with disinterest and exhaust. The room is still and quiet except for the pounding rain on the roof and windows. She exhales loudly as she pushes herself away from the desk and lays her head on the headrest of her large and imposing leather chair. She lowers her eyelids in subliminal refuge.

Emily stays like that for a few more minutes, just feeling the cold and silence to the point of further discomfort. She would feel alone, too, if it weren't for the walls. The walls who seemed to watch her every move with scrutiny while they themselves gave away nothing behind their thick wallpaper.

Sometimes Emily preferred their standing silence, other times she believed that they should include her in their secret conversations. Such times were when they creaked at her coming and passing and the throws of the elements against their frames and outermost walls. As if they were gossiping about her recent appearances, or lack of, and commenting on the weather outside.

She felt safer and the luxury of privacy behind the closed doors of the study, away from the prying eyes of the walls outside it. Not even her room felt so comforting. That had to be compromised as she got up from her chair and trudged across the sizable room and opened and closed the doors behind her. She presumed to walk across a long hall, straight to the stairs and down where, rounding the immediate corner, she entered a sitting area and, on the left wall next to her, there was a thermostat. She pressed the buttons to hike up the temperature to 78º and walked back to the study with the same brisk pace and straight gaze she had when she left it.

Emily reached her study with little perturbation from the ever watchful walls. The slammed doors were the only indicators of her unease. She made her way to her big chair where she plopped down and sunk slightly, needing to shimmy herself back into an upright position. The woman looked down at the contracts and other formalities she had to sign for a supposed prodidgy and statements she had to complete. It felt like agony.

Emily and her family had lived in a restored, stonework house alone in a tucked away community on a remote mountain range of far west Windsor. Then Navin went away to be a full time commander after he had finished his studies, as conditioned by their mother. Some years later, Karen was made an ambassador to Windsor and was relocated to Gulfen, in place of her daughter who turned down the offer. It was a treat whenever either could visit her but each time they would try to persude her to go with them by the end of their visits and each time she would turn them down. In every try it was just a set up for failure because Emily would never leave and it just served to make everyone miserable.

She had a job, she approved legible stonekeepers in training and gave them official assignments; she held televised conference with other important figures over laws and regulations. Emily was very important.

That was, in part, why she had gathered all that paperwork around her desk. The rest were letters from her robot gaurdians and Vigo, who taught the teachings of Silas at universities. There were postcards from Enzo and Rico and the places they traveled. Navin sent pictures of his new family. Karen sometimes bluetoothed or skyped with her during her meetings to tell her how things were going in other places and there she would see Luger. There was never anything from Leon and Trellis was gone.

Aside from that, Emily didn't socialize at all with anyone. She worked at home, her estate was practically the entire south face of a mountain, her written mail was brought and delivered through a chute connected with the Grand Capital Regional Offices where they were sent away to their destinations through more interconnected tubes. Her groceries were sent for and brought in mechanically. Emily could hold her own and fix damages to her home. She didn't have to socialize with anyone by her reasoning if she could help it. So you could assume that the woman wasn't very in tune to what happens in the town at the foot of her mountain.

The room she was in was lined with bookcases on the side walls, grand portraits of famous historical figures of Alledia lined the top wall above the desk while plaques and framed photographs filled the bottom, the entrance wall held technical equipment and screens from where Emily recieved emails and held conferences. An ancient, beautiful rug layed at the center of the wooden floor. The stoic walls stood behind everything and slanted in as if to dote on its recipients.

Emily thought sulkily, "I don't want to deal with this anymore," She looked around the room solemnly and regretted that the only place she felt safe and undisclosed in was the very same where she delt with all the incoming problems from the exterior of her prison-like house and beyond.

Rrggh, I shouldn't be afraid of my own house." she shakes her head and chastices herself for her paranoia. " I need some coffee, or tea, or something," She rubs her temples and gets up yet again.

* * *

Downstairs in her kitchen, Emily fixes herself a cup of hot chocolate and walks to her den. The feelling of the walls surveying her was ever present. She gently sits down in an overstuffed chair in front of a fireplace and slowly sips the warm liquid. The glowing embers grab her attention and her thoughts wander. In this state, sitting, quiet, and impartial to them, the den walls respect her and remain dormant. Emily is alone in her house but in her mind, old dramas play.

Her memories are reflected in the resplendence of the crackling embers and she is transported to another time in her life...

* * *

Ganon's Gate is ablaze. Tall columns of jet black smoke collapse in their own weight and immensity. Firepower from each side are firefly blinks on the mountain faces and thunder resounds as canon shots make contact with the earth. Troops brawl on the ground and fighter jets crash and burn above as they fire misiles and vaporizing rays. The bigger ships handle heavy artillery as they bring down showers of rounds on the ships of their enemy. Bombs leave craters on the mountains and displace foot soldiers.

Colossus mechs propel themselves forward and knock out would-be opponents as they try to clear the way for giant air ships carrying damaged collosus mechs. A front lining mech is struck down and stumbles a good length before skidding to a halt. A skilled pilot gets past those defenses and the silver hawks to shoot at the harnesses of a carrier. He is taken down by another silverhawk but his efforts detach the mech from the aircraft and it plumets to a valley where it brings up a tsunami of debris. The aircraft carrier loses its equilibrium and crashes into another in a firey explosion.

Emily is-

...where is she?

Oh yeah.

* * *

Emily snaps back to reality and almost immediately the walls notice. She puts her hand on her face and sighs deeply, the battle at Ganon's Gate was a pyrrhic victory. It was fiery warfare that cost them dearly but was worth the price, so she was told.

The young stonekeeper, as she was then, was being carried out from the rest of battle due to mass amounts of smoke intake from being knocked out in a maelstrom of shrapnel and a cloud of carbon that descended on her and her team. Emily regained conciousness in a retreating aircraft and, from a large observation screen, she witnessed it unfold. It was permanently burned into her memory even when it was too far to discern.

It was awful and haunting. She remembered that not many returned from it. The girl she was then nearly broke down when she couldn't find Navin. It was Trellis, who she admittedly ran to with her concerns in an anguished embrace, that assured her that her baby brother was alive and well and was waiting in her empty hospital room with her mom where she should be instead of running amock in an indecent hospital gown.

She hit him, stole his cloak, and ran to her precious family who- yippee- were all accounted for.

She smiled gently at that part. She did have good memories. She set her cooling chocolate aside on a lamp table and tucked her legs up with the rest of her on the soft chair.

The walls in this room were far more polite. They were considerate and kept to themselves. That could be in part because they had a deep connection with one another that gave them the air of being a family environment with the ability to read the room and have mental conversations to not bother Emily as they got to know her quirks and history. They were smart.

Emily thought carefully of the good memories, sensing that the den walls weren't tuning in just for her benefit, and an old, fond memory filtered through.

* * *

She was getting very good with using her powers to pick things up. She practiced it in the kitchen when she was pouring herself cereal.

"Um, Emily, I don't think you should do that in here," Leon commented as the girl moved little tendrils of magenta to do her bidding, "Your mom got upset last time when you kept on dropping your spoon into your soup and-"

"I'll be careful," she replied, focusing on pouring milk into her bowl, "See, I didn't spill a drop. You want some OJ?" Leon nodded.

Trellis entered the kitchen and walked to the fridge groggily. He was looking for the milk.

"Hey Trellis," Emily said absentmindedly. He looked at her general direction and spotted the milk on the table.

Emily circled her extra arms around a glass and a carton of orange juice. She kept all her focus on the task of serving Leon the drink. She was getting quite good, she didn't spill a drop then either.

Trellis walked up beside her. Emily's tendrils held the full glass to the side of her head. "Hey, I did it didn't I?" Emily smirked. Holding it tighter and, unknowingly, closer to Trellis's sleepy face.

"Um, that's all well and good Emily, now can you give it to me before-"

_CRACK!_

They both swerved their heads to see that the glass was crushed under the pressure and the juicy contents were spilled all over Trellis's face and hair. He stood awestruck.

"I- I was jusy going to ask for the milk," he said quietly, taking his soaked hair in his fingers and examining it.

Emily's jaw dropped, "Trellis, I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there and- and I guess I held it too tightly, it was for- for Leon! I-I'm sorry!" She babbled shrilly.

Leon broke into laughter and pounded the table with his fists. Sitting there pounding away in a fit of giggles until he calmed down and wore a big mellow grin, hiccuping giggles occasionally. He was very amused.

"It's fine, I guess." He shrugs, eyeing a mirthful Leon with baleful eyes, "but if it was meant for the foxman," he took his hair and wrung it back in a fabulous flourish that speckled Leon's furry face. Very much like a maybeline hair comercial. Amazing how she recalls those.

"Hey!" Leon cried out. Emily was still stuck on Trellis's hair flip. Did he really just do that?

"He should get it instead." Trellis finished with a winning smile, "Now the milk please,"

Emily couldn't help herself and laughed. Trellis frowned. Emily flailed a ribbon of magenta and willed it to curl around a cloth napkin to put into Trellis's hand. It patted his back and ushered him out of the kitchen. He left quite puzzled. Emily still kept laughing.

"Glad to see you get the humor of it now," Leon pouted. "You know, I think he uses strawberry shampoo because this stuff-ugh," he shakes his head like a wet puppy.

Emily thinks its just the cutest thing ever and, "Awwww," 's audibly. Now it's Leon's turn to frown.

"Wait, why did I leave, I still didn't get my milk!" Trellis came back and scowled. Emily starts cracking up again. "Yeah, I'm just going to take this." Trellis carefully walks up to her again and uses his stone to pull the gallon to him, never keeping eyes off Emily lest wild Emily might attack. He shuffles off to the counter and gets himself a glass.

"Yeah, me too. Sorry Em, it's just that I don't want to get the full treatment he got," and Leon reaches for the carton.

Both images spring back to her: Trellis's hair toss and Leon's wet puppy routine. She starts laughing hysterically. Leon and Trellis look back at her worriedly for a long time.

"E-excuse me please," she squeaks in between snorts and runs out of the room.

She finds herself in her bathroom still laughing like a hyena, happy tears to her eyes. Laughter subsiding, she shirks off her stubborn tears and looks into the mirror for a while before deciding that she likes these people.

She walks back to the kitchen thinking about the two and smiling. She found that in Trellis somewhat alluring and Leon's likeness to cute, little animals made her blush deeply. She frowned, what did she just-

Something warm was trickling out of her nose, she noticed, just as she reentered the kitchen. She put her fingers to the spot and pulled them back to see red.

"Emily are you okay," Leon asked, somewhat alarmed. She looked up at the two and swallowed.

She liked these people.

* * *

Emily sighed at the last part. It was before she found out the true nature of the stone. Back then, she kind of liked them. But now, they were both probably dead.

Trellis, the idiot, sacrificed himself for the last battle.

She had not seen Leon since a few years after the war. The teen had been very depressed and was pushing people away from her life. Looks like she succeeded with her old teacher. The last thing he told her was that he was going somewhere and he wouldn't come back until he got it, he promised her. Her answer to that was, " I don't care Leon, just go away,"

She picks up her cold cup of chocolate with shaky hands and downs it as a way to drown her sorrows. She gulps down a surfacing sob. A few more try to erupt from her throat despite her swallows. The angry sobs were barely muffled and they racked her body in waves. Her throat felt raspy and dry.

The den walls watched silently and helplessly. They did not have the protective comfort of the study that so soothed Emily. They could do nothing.

Emily curled up into a tight ball and cried into the armrest. Her shoulders heaved with racking sobs. Even in her fondest memories, she could not escape her demons.

She felt herself responsible for Trellis's death and Leon's disappearance. If only she had done more.

Her tears dry up and she unclenched slightly. The woman sits there stagnant and motionless except for her light breathing.

She hears something she hasn't noticed yet, the rain stopped and birds chirped outside. It was relieving to hear the sound of life. Beams of light seeped in from the kitchen window. There, little birds stood in repose and chirped their song of praise to the lit sun and warm rays. This worked to perk her up and make her smile.

Their sweet lullabies drifted her off to a sound sleep.

* * *

Resonating chimes awoke her. It was the sound of church bells and choral voices. It was the impressions of enlightenment. It was the doorbell. Being pressed. Repeatedly.

"Rrrggh," Emily growled. "Coming!" she yelled with annoyance edging her voice. She sped into the kitchen and splashed water on her tear streaked face. The bell chime was being abused still. She dabbed her face dry and raced to the front door. She made for the knob but hesitated. This person sure was impatient and possibly deranged. She grabbed a steel walking stick and poked her head out.

"Yes?" She said pointedly. "What is it," She pryed the door open and her eyes bugged.

The last measure of the angelic tune played as a certain elf man looked abandonedly at her in a shaft of golden light and backdrop of lush green forest where little birds called temptingly.

His familiarity hit her like a ton of bricks. There he was nearly twenty years later. Standing right here on her doorstep was none other than the infamous prince of the elves.

She wished he wereTrellis.

* * *

**I will adress a few things. Emily and fam are still in Alledia because Trellis brought them there and he was the only one that could send them back. Emily's deal with the walls is that she's been living alone for some time and developed the feeling that the walls were watching her. She even gave them a character according to how the room made her feel. The battle of Ganon's Gate is fanfictional. The handsome guy standing on Emily's doorstep is not Luger. This house cannot walk around. Emily's stone is dead. Emily is 32 and Trellis would be 36. The battle at Ganon's Gate was not the last or the worst by very far. It is like almost three in the morning where I am so, byebye.**

**Anything else will be explained as I go along. The things mentioned above will also be explained better. I hope you tune in. My other story will be updated soon as well. -KasPer**


End file.
